Defiance
by how ostentatious
Summary: Joe Grey was always a man, or maybe just a boy, of defiance. Joe/Miley. Moe. Rated M just to be sure.
1. prologue

There was something about Joe Grey that always seemed to bug everyone.

He dreamed when he should've been awake.

He loved when he should've hated.

He got up again when he was supposed to scrape his knees.

Maybe that was his problem. He always defied the world. What he was supposed to do, he did the opposite of. What the world pulled him toward, he moved in the opposite direction of.

_The girl he was supposed to stay away from, he gravitated toward._

Miley Stewart was always his brother's girl. They broke up, got back together; broke up, got back together, and like so, the cycle went on.

So it was clear (so, _so_ clear), that Miley was off-limits. It was clear that she didn't belong to him, and that she probably never would. The world was all _Niley_-this, _Niley_-that. There was simply no room for _Joe_ and _Miley, _two lovers (_without_ an identified relationship. He felt those were always degrading. Why be plagued with a silly, petulant couple name? Two people in love should never be _identified_ that way.)

So what was with these idyllic fantasies about her and her long, pretty, perfect brown hair and his fingers running through it? Did he live to torture himself with mental lapses of her soft, puckered pink lips smoldering his, and her small-framed body lingering on his, her heated skin flushed with desire under his feverish touch? Joe Grey had never felt so in _lust_ before - but he supposed he had never felt so in _love_ before, either.

He didn't even know what he found so fascinating about her. Her laugh was other-worldly, like a sweet chime that could brighten anyone's day, but a lot of girls had that laugh. He was convinced that all girls were just _born_ with it.

Her smile was like a sunrise; one look and she had him feeling refreshed, like it was a whole new day and a whole new life, even. Joe was satisfied when he had Miley's smile. He felt like he had the world on his side, like he was finally along the same track with everyone in it. But she couldn't be the _only_ one with that smile, could she?

It could have been her ocean blue eyes; staring into them made his stomach clench with butterflies he hated to have and his mind get lost with thoughts he should never think.

He didn't know what it was about her that got him so hooked, but whenever they were alone - when it was just the two of them together - he felt like a man who was staring into the eyes of his wife only seconds after the title was pronounced, like that rush of happy bliss they'd get when they realize they're one step closer to forever. It was like running down a hill too fast and not being able to slow your feet - it was falling in love too quickly and not knowing how to stop.

And maybe he knew that having these feelings would lead him and everyone around him to one massive trainwreck.

But on the other hand, he was always a man (or maybe just a boy) of defiance.

* * *

**Cough. New story that I'm writing for myself, mainly. xD**


	2. i should've never thought of you

_You're pushing and pulling me down to you._

Joe Grey looked to the charred black sky of night as he kicked shut the exit door of some venue in the middle of somewhere in the United States. He didn't know because he didn't care enough to keep track when every day consisted of the same routine: get up, eat, perform, go to sleep, travel. That was his dream, though (or maybe it was just his brother's dream).

He was doing perfectly fine up on stage, had a smile - or at least _some_thing that resembled one - on his face and everything, but then _she_ came, and returning with a massive bang was his bad mood. So, he stormed away, his mic left on the microphone stand and his brothers staring at him in a mixture between fury and confusion (because which were they supposed to feel: anger because their brother was threatening their dream or worried that their brother was quite possibly heading toward destruction?). Meanwhile, his – or should he say, _their_ – fans just stood by the stage as if expecting it all. When was it _not_ like Joe Grey to walk away in the middle of a set? The stubborn, arrogant, hotheaded rockstar always did what he wanted, which everyone besides his brothers seemed to know.

It was sort of ironic - his brothers not knowing him any better than people he had never even met - but lately, he didn't really know himself that well, either. "Fair play," a homeless man in New York once told him. "Best not be a hypocrite." He didn't remember what the man was talking about or if he was really talking about anything worthwhile at all, but Joe held onto those words because they were the only things that kept him at least _somewhat_ grounded.

Sighing, Joe crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the venue's outer wall of brick, listening to the sounds of guitars and screams with a scowl. As if they could perform without him – he made the show. There would be no entertainment without the lead freakin' singer. Hell, Nick's voice didn't even suit half of the songs he sang.

_Nick_.

Joe rolled his eyes. His brother was probably inside wooing his girlfriend, singing some cheesy ass song to her with just his acoustic and acting all charming and sweet and shy. That was why he left. It made him sick looking at it and made him sick just thinking about it.

Sometimes he really felt like Nick knew about how he felt about Miley, but then he remembered that if Nick did know, he would never forgive him because it's not like this hasn't happened before with Joe whisking Nick's girlfriends off their feet and fucking them senseless. None of those girls were _Miley_, though. Joe wasn't going to argue that he changed because that would've been a lie, but he was going to argue that it was different with her. It just _was_.

"Joe?"

Picking his head up and his gaze switching from the asphalt to the Exit door, Joe saw her. He felt a rush of blood creep up the sides of his neck and a shaky breath of something like nerves part his lips. "Hey," he breathed, before tearing his eyes away from the leanness of her lithe body and the syren calls of her eyes.

"They could use you in there," she said, her presence beside him – he could feel it because just being centimeters away from her made his skin crawl.

"I'm not in the mood," he shrugged. He really wasn't. He was in the mood for something – or someone – else, and that was clearly out of the question.

"When are you ever?" She laughed; the sound was sweet and light and airy, and it drove him absolutely insane.

He shrugged and kept his eyes to the ground. "That's funny," he said, but there was no laugh along with it. It was hard to be so distant with her when he just wanted to be natural, but being natural would have involved him being more than just _friendly_ with her.

"What's wrong with you, Joe?" She was looking at him, oceanic eyes searching through his pools of hazel for some sort of clue; as always, she came short.

"Nothing," he shook his head, just realizing how close their faces were. He could feel his breath in his throat, in a battle to come out normally as his eyes fell to her lips.

She didn't seem to notice. "I don't believe you," she said, her eyes slightly narrowing. "You're hiding something from me."

He laughed with only bitter humor and shook his head as he retorted, "I'm hiding something from everyone."

"But it's different," she sighed, stepping closer. "We were so close before when we went on tour together… You told me everything," she frowned. "Why is that changing?"

"Because people change," he shrugged. "There are some things I can't tell you…"

"You can tell me any—"

Cutting her off, he corrected himself, "There are some things I don't _want_ to tell you."

None of them moved as they stared at each other, Miley trying to find something in Joe's eyes while he tried to find some sort of affection in hers. They both found something tiny, some underlying swirl of emotions neither of them could discern – but then there was something common. Like a common lust or longing. A common need to rip each other's clothes off and tangle themselves in the most intimate of ways. But it was just tiny - or it _looked_ to be.

"I-I need to get back in," she stuttered as she turned away. He could see waves of heat hit her face and neck, red swimming up her ears. "You should, too."

"I don't want to," he stated calmly even if he felt like his heart would never slow down.

She stood there and sighed, looking back at him once more. She looked so perfect there to him, hair down in its natural tendrils and blue eyes giving away that she wanted him, too. If it was as much as he wanted her, he wasn't sure – but it gave him an incentive to find out.

"I'll tell him you're sick," she sighed quietly, before disappearing behind the slowly closing door and leaving him there.

God, he wanted her.

* * *

_**I know first chapters aren't too great, but hey...  
Review?  
& Thanks to the three reviewers on the prologue. (: **_


	3. stand in the center of it all

Although pessimistic and dull, sometimes Joe liked to look at things through a different scope – a happier one, a rosier one… One with color, with _life_. When his mind was truly at work, he could convince himself of a lot of things. He could delude himself, blind himself – and the _best_ part was that he was the only one capable of ruining it.

Whenever he could manage it, he locked himself in the tiny room he shared with his brother on their tour bus, hidden within his own sanctuary (otherwise known as his bunk) with his eyes closed, fantasies of the girl he was damn sure he was in love with permeating his every thought. She was a drug to him, so addictive, so wrong to have, and so deadly. She didn't rot his body from the inside out but it sure felt like she was doing that with his soul. He always thought it was a little cliché, but coming up with these things was always his brother's job. Why do you think his brother was in charge of writing songs?

(Besides, life's always a little cliché. Predictable isn't all too bad.)

It was always especially easy for him to do when he was alone. Nick and Kevin were gone – Kevin with his girlfriend, Danielle, and Nick… Nick with his girlfriend, _Miley_. Desperately, Joe wanted to take Nick out of that sentence and substitute it for himself. _Joe_. _Joe_ and _Miley_.

He never liked listening to sappy love songs, but lying down alone on his bunk, cradled by pillows and thin sheets as never by the cradling flesh by the one he loved, he found solace in them. His fingers worked slowly on his phone, sliding along the lock screen to replay the same wailing tune. "You and me, always between the lines," Sara Bareilles crooned to him just as his eyes fell to a close and squeezed together. She understood him. Maybe he'd meet her one day – they could commiserate there in silence, so much understanding even though no one would speak. They'd just get it. Each other. Like Hollywood, the world he was caught in, it would be magical – except in a twisted, melancholy way because there's nothing _magical_ about a room full of sadness.

He knew what everyone would probably think of him: Joe Jonas, the rockstar (and hottest brother, in his opinion and many girls around the world), moping because of one girl when it was more than possible for him to get any other girl he wanted. But that was just the thing – he didn't want anyone else. He didn't love Miley because she was a challenge and he loved challenges, but it sure played a part.

It had been five hours since his brother left with Miley. She came in, avoiding him like the plague and seeming tense even as Nick touched her and wrapped his arms around her. Joe wanted to smirk at the fact that his brother didn't give her that boyfriendly sense of comfort, but then he realized that it wouldn't change anything. Nick still had her. Nick was winning.

While they were leaving, he looked at Miley just as she looked at him, and he didn't know what he saw. She looked sad for him – a look he wanted to take away from her – and he wanted to convince himself that there was something else. So he did.

"Joe, you still here?" Joe's eyes slowly peeled open when he heard his older brother's voice, followed by the sounds of shuffling feet hitting the plush, carpeted floor of the tour bus. He didn't answer, though. He just lay there, motionless with his earbuds plugged in.

"Hey," Kevin said after opening the curtain of his bunk, looking at his younger brother's back. "You okay?"

Joe's eyes closed at the sound of Kevin's concerned voice and nodded, turning around with a faked yawn and an even more faked look of just-waking-up-fatigue. "Yeah," he said groggily, wiping at his eyes. "Guess I fell asleep."

"You sure?" Kevin's eyebrows furrowed in dubiousness and worry. "You don't look too good. Have you been crying?"

"No!" Joe groaned and dug his head in his pillow, sniffing the faint, lingering scent of laundry detergent from when he last washed it at home. "I'm fucking tired, man. Hop off."

Kevin shaking his head was nearly audible as well as the sigh that left his lips, some of his hot breath hitting Joe's cheek. "Whatever, Joe," he said. "Sorry for asking."

As Kevin left, Joe almost felt bad, and he was picking his head up from the pillow to apologize when Kevin spoke up.

"Miley's here, and everyone can tell that she misses you. At least stop being an ass to her," Kevin said, and then the door to his and Nick's room closed, leaving him alone once again.

* * *

**Sorry that this one's short. :/ **


End file.
